


Bonds

by ScarletteStar1



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/F, Lizvabi, Lizvabi Ship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:04:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6501829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Explores all the delicious and exotic "what ifs" between Keen and Navabi. . .  For the two or three dedicated Lizvabi Shippers I know out there.  xox.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It happened when they were in the hospital, recovering. 

Neither of them saw it coming, but there is something about nearly dying at the hands of an insane eco-terrorist that bonds those involved. 

So it was with Liz and Samar. 

After she’d been up to look at the babies in the maternity ward, Liz went to Samar’s room to check on her. She was conscious, but clearly fatigued. 

“You just missed Aram,” Samar said. 

“I bet he was thrilled to see you back among the living,” Liz said. She slumped into the chair next to Samar’s bed. The walk from the maternity floor and the medication she’d been given drained her energy. It felt good to sit. 

“And Red?” Samar asked, her eyes flashing in Liz’s direction. “Did he come to see you?” 

“Yes. He was here. At least I was told he was. He was gone when I woke,” Liz smiled a bit uncomfortably. “One of the nurses said he played music for me. When I woke up, I had earbuds in and they were attached to an iPod.” 

“How sweet,” Samar offered. Her olive skin was unusually pale, making her dusky, violet lips look even fuller and deeper. Samar started to cough. Liz stood and got a cup of water, put the straw to her mouth, her thumb just grazing her lower lip. Samar took a sip and then nodded to indicate Liz could put the cup down. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Like I just survived an ancient plague and lived to tell about it,” Samar quipped. 

“I’m sorry, Samar,” Liz said. Tears filled her eyes. “If I had shot Beck when I had the chance, when we were down in the crypt. If I hadn’t frozen. I could have prevented all of this.” 

“Elizabeth,” Samar said and reached for Liz’s hand. “You are not to blame. You saved me. I doubt I could have gotten through this had it not been for you in the airport. You put your own life at risk and you saved mine. You have nothing to be sorry for, and I will not ever hear you apologize for this again. Do you understand?” Even in her weakened condition, Navabi’s voice was firm and commanding. She squeezed Liz’s hand to emphasize her point. 

“You’re so strong. You would have made it regardless.” 

“You don’t know that,” Samar said and raised Liz’s hand to her heart. Her skin was warm and creamy under Liz’s fingers. She could feel Samar’s pulse under her flesh, steady and reassuring. “Besides,” she added, winking at Liz. “We got to talk about boys while we were in there. It wasn’t all bad.” 

Liz snorted and huffed as she recalled their conversation about Reddington and her jealousy at his divided attentions. 

I had it all figured out. . . and then he showed up.

You know everyone talks about that. They don’t want to bring it up with you. Why you? Who is he to you?

Reddington is the bane of my existence. And yet here he is trying to reconnect with his daughter, trying to find her, and I find myself feeling possessive. . . possessive of him, jealous of this girl he is trying to protect. 

Liz had admitted then, to Samar, that she and Red had been intimate for the past few months. That she had turned to him for comfort and reassurance after she released Tom from the boat and things had progressed. That she thought she loved him. That she feared she loved him, and that he was going to destroy her. 

She had whispered all this and more, a dying declaration of sorts. 

There had been no judgement in Samar’s eyes, as they huddled together, embracing before their certain deaths. 

Only they didn’t die. 

And now Samar knew. 

“Samar,” Liz began, her voice lowered and quavering. “You can never tell anyone what I told you in the airport. About Red?” 

“Keen,” Samar murmured, her lips puckered in a wry smile. “If anyone knows how to keep a secret, it’s a covert operative of the Mossad.” 

“I see your point,” Liz said. “But really. It has to stay dark. If Red knew I told you. . . “

“What’s he got over you anyway?”

“I wish I knew,” Liz said. There had been times when it did feel Reddington was holding her hostage through their intimacy. He could be so tender and then almost suddenly distant almost to the point of cruelty. There was one week he iced Liz out entirely because he’d caught her looking through an old album of photos of her and Tom. Liz had only been looking for a photo of her dog, whom she missed dearly. She tried to explain this to Red who turned on his heel and left, unseen and unheard for days after. 

When he finally returned, it was like nothing had happened. He was jovial, and Liz couldn’t bring herself to bring the altercation back up with him. 

He’d claimed to find jealousy a base emotion, but it seemed to flow through his veins at times in a manner Liz found frightening. He’d never laid a hand on her. She wasn’t scared that he would hurt her physically. But there was something about the glint in his eye that communicated a certain power he held over her. Like he knew things. Like he could destroy her life with a few choice words or deeds. 

Samar winced a little and pressed her head into her pillow. 

“Are you in pain? Should I get someone for you?” Liz asked, looking around. 

“No. I’m fine,” she sighed, relaxing as the wave of discomfort passed. “But how are you, Keen?”

“I’m OK. Just tired, really. The doctor said I’ll probably be discharged tomorrow and cleared to go back to work next week.” 

“This is good,” Samar sighed and closed her eyes and for a moment. Liz thought Samar would go to sleep, and noticed an odd disappointment that she would return alone to her room. With her eyes closed, there was a softness to Agent Navabi that Liz had not seen or had at least not noticed before. She had a regal nose and the thick fringe of dark lash made her look like some kind of exotic queen from a fairy tale. She was still holding Liz’s hand over her heart and the sensation of her chest rising and falling with her breath was hypnotic. Liz found herself breathing in time with her. There was something life affirming about just breathing in unison. 

“Was the baby born?” Samar asked, her eyes popping open and surprising Liz. 

“Yes,” Liz answered. “I went up to see her. She’s perfection born into a totally imperfect world. Hopefully someone will take her and love her. Hopefully she’ll live beyond the awful legacy those people tried to create.” 

“She’ll get a chance. Which is more than she would have had.” Samar said. She turned her head to look at Liz. “She can be in your debt for that.” 

“You should rest,” Liz said. It was true, Samar had been hit much harder, not only by the virus, but also by a bullet. 

Samar still clutched Liz’s hand over her chest. She gripped it and said, “Stay with me a little longer, Keen?” Then she brought their hands back down to the mattress by her leg. 

“Sure. OK.” Liz said. She stared at Samar’s slim fingers, wrapped tenaciously around her’s. She understood why Samar wanted her there. 

It had been a close call. 

While there had certainly been no love lost between Liz and Samar, the events of the day before had woven them together, much as their fingers were woven together and resting on the bed beside Samar’s hip. Liz thought to reclaim her hand, but she couldn’t. In fact, she wanted to be closer to the agent stricken in the bed before her. 

She wondered if maybe she were just exhausted and feeling vulnerable. She should probably go back to her room and call Red. He would come, hold her, keep her company, make her feel safe. 

But in that moment, it was not Red to whom she wanted to be close. 

“You know, I don’t really have anyone,” Samar said, breaking Liz’s reflection. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I don’t really have anyone. Not like you have your friends or Red. My parents are gone, and my brother was killed. I’ve never been in one place long enough to get close to anyone. Anyway, closeness would be an occupational hazard, right?” She laughed ruefully at her own words. “I guess situations like this make me think about that. Make me wonder, who would care if I were gone?” 

“You have me,” Liz said. “I would care.” 

“We don’t even like each other, Keen,” Samar said, and they both laughed until Samar started coughing. Liz offered her the cup of water again and was oddly touched to watch the little bob of her throat as she swallowed. 

“Well, you have Aram, then. He is so obviously head over heels for you.” 

“He is sweet,” she sighed. “But he’s not really my type.” Samar grimaced in pain, hissing between her teeth. “I think the morphine is wearing off,” she panted. Liz stood up at her bedside and looked around her. 

“Here,” Liz said, handing her the gadget with the button to self-administer an additional dose. Samar pressed it once and her eyes rolled back in her head as the medicine hit her bloodstream. Then she looked up at Liz from under heavy eyelids and nodded. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

Liz put her hand to Samar’s forehead and stroked back her thick curls. “Please don’t thank me,” she whispered, her voice close to tears. “I promise not to apologize anymore if you promise to stop thanking me.” 

“It’s a deal,” Samar said.

Liz bent, in what was a natural gesture, and kissed Samar’s forehead. But Samar put a hand around the back of Liz’s neck and pressed her face close to her own, so their foreheads were touching. For a moment, they lingered there, their breath warm and moist on each other’s cheeks. Then Samar increased the pressure on the back of Liz’s neck, ever so slightly, bringing their lips together. 

It lasted longer than it should have. 

And maybe it was the morphine, but it felt amazing. 

Their lips felt like sun-warmed, tree-ripe peach. It was very soft, heavy, and a little dry until one of them opened their mouth and introduced a tongue which eagerly met another tongue in a hot swirl of delicate ardour. 

Liz sat down on the edge of the bed as the kiss bloomed. Samar pushed her hand up into Liz’s hair and Liz stroked Samar’s face. It was all gentle, but insistent. Liz’s hand came down Samar’s neck and started to drift further down towards her chest, when she remembered where they were and gasped, almost in horror. She sat up. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Liz mumbled. 

“Mmmm,” Samar’s eyes had closed and she was drifting. 

“Samar,” Liz said, touching the sleepy woman’s shoulder. She opened her eyes and looked at Liz. “I’m going back to my bed now. Sleep well.” 

As Liz walked back to her room, part of her prayed Samar would forget what had just happened, or that she would think it a dream induced by the pain medicine. Either way, it could not go any further.


	2. 2

“You avoiding me, Keen?” 

Liz looked up from her desk and found Samar leaning against the door. 

“No. Just working this case,” Liz said and looked back down at the files spread out on her desk. She hoped Samar would take the hint and back off, because truthfully Liz was avoiding her. 

“You know, I might not formally be a profiler, but I’m pretty good at reading people.” 

“Oh,” Liz said without looking up. 

“Yes. And my read on you says that you have been avoiding me for about a week now,” Samar crossed her arms over her chest. Liz could feel that she was on the receiving end of one of Samar’s intense stares. “Yes, about a week I would say. A timeline which coincidentally matches up to the duration of time it has been since we went out of that drink?” 

Liz’s head jerked up, her eyes wide with panic as she heard the teasing, little inflection at the end of Samar’s statement. She jumped up from her desk, strode to the door and closed it. 

“Are you insane?” She hissed at Samar, her hands involuntarily balling themselves into fists. 

“No. Quite sane.” 

“What are you thinking bringing that up here and now? What if someone heard you?” 

“I’m thinking that I can’t stop thinking about you, Elizabeth,” Samar said and reached out with a hand that glided down Liz’s arm and scooped up her trembling fingers. Liz looked around wildly. Most of the blinds were shut. “Relax,” Samar commanded as though reading her mind. “He’s not here. In fact, I think I heard something about Cooper giving the go ahead for him to travel for a few days to follow up on a lead in Dubai, but you would know that already, I suppose.” 

“Oh. Right,” Liz sighed. Her shoulders relaxed a bit and she squeezed Samar’s hand before letting it go and moving to stand so the desk was between them. “But still, we cannot do this here. Or anywhere. We just can’t do this.” 

“We are not doing anything besides talking.”

“Ok. Then we can’t talk about this here.”

“Fine. Then how about you come over to my place tonight. I’ll make us some supper and we can talk. About ‘this’.” 

“I don’t think there is really anything for us to talk about.” 

“I beg to differ,” Samar said in a breathy murmur, and sat on the edge of Liz’s desk. She folded her hands and raised an eyebrow at Liz. 

No one had known the two women went out a week ago for a drink. It had taken some diversion, and the entire time Liz was petrified of Red finding out. But there was something about Samar, something exotic and dangerous that compelled Liz’s sense of exploration. Something about Samar also made Liz feel safe when they were together. When Samar had pushed her up against the building in that alley and kissed her, the rest of the world disappeared and Liz felt totally owned by the deep, velvety woman who stood now before her, remembering the same exact moment. 

Liz had broken their kiss and gone home, confused and anxious and so aroused even the cold shower couldn’t keep her fingers from bringing herself to a raging orgasm and whispering Samar’s name in the the spray of water, over and over with every pulse of her climax. 

Liz blushed furiously as Samar smirked at her. Liz smiled in spite of herself. 

“Ok,” she conceded. “But stop smirking at me. We can have dinner.”

“Eight at my place?” 

“No,” Liz practically yelled, then caught herself. “No. Let’s meet someplace neutral.” 

They negotiated a meet for eight that evening at a Sushi bar in Dupont Circle that was notorious for their karaoke nights. 

“Fine,” Samar said. “But just so you know, Keen, I do not do karaoke.” 

“Ah. So you won’t be singing ‘Hotel California’ for me then?” 

“No,” Samar replied and they both laughed. 

……………………………………………………………………………..

Samar applied a fresh coat of lipstick and checked her hair in the mirror of the ladies room before going out to meet Liz at the bar. The Iranian woman was normally composed and confident, but she found her stomach aflutter in anticipation of meeting Keen. She feared she had come on too strong last week and possibly driven the younger agent away. 

It had been weeks since the virus and hospitalization. At first Samar had thought the kiss had been a dream, but then Liz was so awkward and anxious around her she knew it had really happened. 

For Samar, it had been a long time coming. She had been following Keen for weeks at the bequest of Reddington, and found herself drawn to her charge in more way than one. There was one morning she had watched Keen sip her coffee out of a styrofoam cup, and the imprint of her lips on the rim had left Samar breathless and distracted. When Reddington had called her for that “favor” she felt for sure he somehow had read her thoughts and knew, but then it turned out he just wanted her to play Jasper. She had never breathed such a sigh of relief at jabbing a needle into a man’s gums as she had that day. 

Liz was late. Samar sat at the bar, drinking a dirty martini. A guy approached her and asked if he could buy her another. She was almost certain Liz was not going to show, so she said he could buy her a drink and they sat there chatting. 

And then she walked in. 

Liz walked up to the bar and Samar jumped off her stool. The women embraced and the guy who had been chatting up Samar backed off into the shadows. 

“I see you’ve had company,” Liz said. 

“And you’re late.”

“Well, if you would prefer, I could leave you two to carry on with your evening.” 

“Keen!” Samar said. “You aren’t jealous, are you? You can’t possibly be jealous?” 

Liz simply shrugged. 

“Damn, woman,” Samar said, shaking her head. “You are going to drive me to distraction. If you haven’t already.” 

“Stop.”

“I’m serious,” Samar said and grabbed Liz around the waist. Liz looked around nervously, but Samar held her closer and said, “Relax. You’re safe with me. And tonight you are with me.” She felt Liz relax a bit in her arms. “Shall we get a table? Or would you like to eat at the bar?” 

They chose to eat at the sushi bar, which was fine with Samar because it meant they could sit close to one another on the bar stools in front of the display of all the exotic fish. They ordered miso soups and an assortment of sushi rolls that came decoratively upon a large wooden boat.

As they polished off their second carafe of sake, they moved closer to one another on their stools, until their thighs pressed close together. “You’ll come back to my place?” Samar intoned. 

Liz straightened and scowled at her. “Samar,” she began. 

“Come on, Elizabeth. I know you want to. You know you want to. Reddington is three time zones away. And when the cat’s away. . .” She trailed off and ran her hand up Liz’s thigh. Liz shivered. 

“If he finds out, he will kill you,” she said simply, the words grounding her. 

“I’m not scared of him,” Samar said with barely any affect. Something about her cool, detached, and fearless tone brought Liz’s pulse back to racing in her neck. As though she sensed this, Samar reached up and put her fingers against the column of Liz’s neck. “So, you’ll come home with me?” 

“Do you always get what you want?” Liz whispered. 

“No,” Samar answered, and tossed back the remainder of her sake. “But tonight we are both going to get what we want. I’ll make sure of it.” Her hand shot up in the air to demand the check from the wait staff, and she paid it before Liz could protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimed. xox.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimed. I own nothing. This work was originally posted elsewhere at an earlier date, and I am just now uploading it here for the two or three delightful souls I know who would love to see a Lizvabi Ship set sail. xoxo


End file.
